Wine tasting in the living room – why wine-making is like writing

‘I like wine.'

That’s what Takaki Okada of Folium Vineyard says when I ask him why he’s decided to start his own vineyard in Marlborough Country.   Set amongst the vineyards of Brancott Estate and Cloudy Bay, he’s been busy making 1200 cases of wine, while around him Brancott produces thousands.

Tasting Folium wines - in Takaki Okada's living room

Takaki confesses, with a smile, that he doesn’t like Marlborough sauvignon blanc.  To him the grassy, fruity flavours that everyone knows mean the fruit is over-ripe.  So he picks his earlier and makes it in the French way.  He’s made two, the 2011 and the reserve.

We try the 2011 first – it’s delicious.  We do love the grassy Sauvignon Blancs, Brancott is our staple wine back home, but we also like the crisp dry French style as well – Sancerre being a favourite.  This was lovely and crisp and dry.  We’d have bought a bottle, but Takaki doesn’t have a cellar door yet, nor the facilities to sell wine – so he gave it to us.

The full range of Folium Wines

He also gives the reserve after we’d tasted it (lovely!).  And the pinot noir 2011 and the pinot noir reserve.  ‘I’m going away for the weekend, so I can’t drink it,’ he says.  Then we go out and he shows us his grapes.

He explains why he likes them planted closer together, why he doesn’t irrigate, why he doesn’t cover them.  And then he shows us his tractor.

As soon as we leave, he’s off to trim his vines.  He already has his working shoes on and his gloves are ready – it’s obvious that he has work to do, and there is no one else to do it.

Takaki Okada is Folium Vineyard.  He does everything himself, from tending his fruit, to making the wine, using the facilities of the nearby Fromm vineyard.  He does employ workers to pick grapes, but everything else is down to him.  But he is obviously passionate about his wine and is doing something he loves.

‘Not all the time,’ he says with a smile.

I know how he feels.  I feel the same about writing.  And, as we’ve been tasting and talking our way round wineries, I’ve seen a lot of similarities between winemaking and writing.  Winemakers tend their fruit the way we build our characters, they craft their wines the way we put our stories together but, most off all, they are passionate about what they do.

Then they have to find a distributor for their wines, by sending samples off, just like we send our work to agents.  Finding a distributor means your wines will be shown to retailers, the way our agents show our books to publishers.  It was Takaki’s distributer, Puneet Dhall, who put us in touch and set up our meeting.  It was Puneet who told us that Takaki makes ‘one of the best savs,’ the way an agent will enthuse about an author.

In wine, you have the ‘big boys’ like the Brancotts, who sell by the truck-load, or tanker-load, who are commercial and successful – there are authors like that as well. 

Winetasting at Brancott - no living rooms here

And there are winemakers like Takaki, who have small vineyards and make wine because they love it.  In writing, these would be people who had to have a full time job as well, so maybe it’s not all the same.

Or maybe I’m comparing the two, because I like nothing better than to sit and write with a glass of wine (which is what I’m doing right now . . .)

   

Bungy jumping gnomes, scary roads – and a bit of wine

Queenstown, New Zealand.

It’s where you go if you want to be chucked out of a plane, thrown off a high bridge with a Velcro bandage round your ankles, hurtled down the rapids in a dingy, or anything else to boost your adrenalin.

It’s also a rather beautiful spot.  Surrounded by craggy peaks, rolling hills and a dazzling lake, it’s a good place to take a scenic (and gentle) boat trip, or just go for a walk and gaze in wonder at the beauty of this land.

Or you can watch. 

That’s what we did.  We went to Kawarau Bridge and watched people jumping off it – with their feet tied with Velcro.

Kawarau Bridge - a scenic place to jump off a bridge

Here the scenery is entertaining as well as stunning – enhanced by the sound of people screaming as they plunge towards the raging river below, screaming as they’re jerked up again, screaming as they swing around.  For me, there was enough thrill in that, enough wonder at the parents who watched their daughter jump.  Brave of them.  And the poor girl who stood there 43m above the river on a tiny platform, screaming to the crowd that she couldn’t do it, with nothing to stop her toppling off apart from the man persuading her to jump.  But she did jump.  And for all her bravery, she ended up being hauled upside-down into a boat and then had to walk all the way back up again.  To heaps of applause.

After that, we visited a winery that was recommended in the information centre.  ‘You have to drive along a cliff to get there.’  Well, we wouldn’t expect anything else.  And, after taking a wrong turn a few days ago and traversing Danseys Pass while low on fuel, we up for the challenge.

The road to Chard Farm vineyard cuts high along the side of the river, in sight of the bungy jumpers. It’s a narrow unmade track and it twists and turns, giving views of the raging river far below.   ‘Hey, we’re higher than the bunjee jumping bridge!’ says Eddie, as I beg him to keep his eye on the road.

But it’s worth it.

The Bungy Jumping Gnome at Chard Farm Vineyard

This was our first New Zealand wine-tasting.  We went through the range, whites to reds, weren’t keen on the whites (chardonnay, reisling, gewurtzraminer, all too sweet for our taste), but loved the pinot noirs.  There was no sauvignon blanc on offer because ‘that’s a Marlborough grape, and this is Otaga – here we do pinot noir.’  And very good it was too.  So good, we were reluctant to throw it away (we still had a long drive ahead).  At least it didn’t go to waste.

At Chard Farm the left-over pinot noir gets made into brandy

Distilling for your own use is perfectly legal,’ says the cellar door manager, as he invites us to pour our left-overs into a large glass.  ‘So I make brandy from the left-over pinot.  Want to try it?’  I have a sniff, which is enough to make my eyes water.  ‘Good stuff,’ squeaks Eddie.  

‘Want to try the vodka?’  offers the cellar manager.  So we try the elderflower vodka – very good.

But we go away with a bottle of Chard Farm Pinot Noir.

Chard Farm and its cliff-top driveway

You can go and see what’s left of the cathedral - a night in Christchurch

More serendipity.*

We arrived in Christchurch in the rush hour.  That meant we had to wait behind at least one car at the traffic lights and at the most – one car.  Where was everyone? 

It’s easy to forget that we are in a country that’s bigger than the UK, but the population is about half that of London.  We’d been told that visiting New Zealand is like visiting England in the 50’s and I can see why – there's hardly any traffic.

‘You must go to the open air concert tonight.'  That’s what the lad said when we picked up our hire car.  ‘It’s near your accommodation (he showed us on the map) and it ends in fireworks.  You’re lucky because they postponed it due to rain.'

‘You must go to the open air concert tonight.’  That’s what the man said when we checked into our accommodation.  ‘It’s only down the road and there will be fireworks.’  We began to get the impression there wasn't much else to do.

He also made the quote about the cathedral.  I remember the devastation of the earthquake and really feeling for the people of Christchurch.  But it happened two years ago and back in the UK, it’s pretty much forgotten.  But, here in Christchurch, you can’t walk to the end of the road our accommodation was in, because it’s in an area in the middle of town that’s pretty much blocked off while the area is under reconstruction - two years after the event.  ‘It’s going to look great in another year’s time,’ said our host.  I hope so.

So, we found a supermarket, picked up a bottle of Marlborough sav blanc and headed to the park, where 50,000 were gathered for the annual Classical Sparks Concert

Christchurch's annual Classical Sparks Concert

We laid our blanket (aka our beach towel) on the ground and sat down with our wine as the night drew in. We listened to a piece called 'Estancia' by Ginastera, which was about gauchos on an Argentinian estancia, so we drank to our future time on an Argentinian estancia.  As night closed in, Tchaikovsky's 1812 began and shortly after that, the fireworks.

So much better than a tour of the devastation of Christchurch.  I'm not kidding, there really are tours for this. I can't see the appeal.  And it's not just me.  We met a lovely couple on the Tairie Gorge Railway who'd met in Christchurch, studied in Christchurch, married in Christchurch, who couldn't bear the thought of going back now, let alone something as ghoulish as a bus tour.

They also told us about several good wineries Marlborough - while we were drinking our favourite Marlborough sav blanc, which happened to be available in the buffet. And we told them about another bit of serendipity - the shortcut we accidentally took over Dansey's Pass.

Dansey's pass 

 This was a ninety minute hair-raising drive on a gravel road that hugged the sides of the hills in a series of hairpin bends and vertiginous drops.  The scenery was breathtaking, the car got absolutely filthy, we arrived in Dunedin two hours after we thought we would and we nearly ran out of petrol.  But it was worth it for the stupendous views that it was too dangerous to stop to take a photo.  And next day, we saw similar scenery from the comfort of a train while discussing Marlborough wines with a very nice couple.  

I call that serendipity - Eddie calls it getting lost.

The sort of road that took us over Dansey's Pass - but this time  viewed  from the comfort of  a train

There are 900 steps down – but you can take the cable car back up.

More serendipity*.

We arrived in Leura in a torrential downpour, so bad we were soaked as soon as we opened our car door.  Visibility was about the same as a severely foggy English day.  We’d had a bit of a job finding our accommodation because we couldn't see it. 

We’d woken up to glorious sunshine and had breakfast by the pool of our b&b.  We took the journey to Leura slowly, stopping off to look at the fantastic views.   We took a trail that promised a viewpoint in 1km.  The clouds were coming down, but it was still fantastic. 

There are many views like this in the Blue Mountains

We got a little lost on the way back, but managed to find the car just as we felt the first drop of rain.  Then the clouds descended, visibility disappeared and we were very glad we hadn’t been left out on the unguarded clifftops in the fog.

By the time we arrived in Leura, the rain was coming down like a power shower.  The temperature dropped and we had to dig out our few pieces of warm clothes.  But we found a great Italian restaurant (recommended by the checkout guy in Aldi) that was BYO (bring your own) and enjoyed our bottle of McLeish estate cabernet sauvignon.

The next day dawn grey and miserable as an English summer.  We went to a couple of chilly lookouts, but couldn’t see a lot.



The Blue Mountains under the clouds



The scenic route became a route.  No scenery at all, not even the mountains under clouds.  So, back to our accommodation for a rethink.  We found the Scenic World website, which offers various options of cable cars and stuff, plus a path down into the rainforest, which can be enjoyed whatever the weather.

So that’s what we did.

The walk down from the station at the top to the bottom - Scenic World, Leura

 The trail down took about an hour and involved 900 steps in various guises from log treads, steep stone steps to narrow metal stairwells.  Then there were the straight bits under overhangs, where you had to duck under the dripping water.  Plus several stops where you could take in the breathtaking scenery.

There were no clouds down here.  It was the most amazing walk I’ve ever been on.  And when we got to bottom, we met all those who’d come down on the cable, who went on the walkways down there and got the cable back up.  I don’t think they have any idea what they missed.  Even though the walkways were great.

.

So, we decided it would be fun to walk back up – another hour, another 900 steps.  Funnily enough, we hadn’t met a single person coming up as we were going down, but we met a few going down a we came up. 

And when we got up, we weren’t feeling a bit cold, the weather had cleared and we managed a few more look-outs, before heading to a lovely independent wine shop, where we bought a bottle of Opportunist Semillon blanc, which was delicious with our smoked salmon salad, plus a bottle of Tamburlaine Malbec, which was lovely drunk on its own in Sydney’s Hyde Park.

OK, the wine would have been bought anyway.  But the fabulous walk, with those gushing waterfalls, would not have happened without the inclement weather.

And it was clearer next morning, we got some more viewing in before we set off for Sydney, seeing what we’d missed under the clouds the previous day.

The three sisters - one of the iconic images of the Blue Mountains

*see previous serendipity blog

Today we’re picking our chardonnay – wine tasting in Hunter Valley

‘The thing about being a small boutique winery,’ says one cellar manager.  ‘Is that we choose when to pick the grapes ourselves.  No one tells us when to do it.’ 

Peterson's - a boutique winery

Hunter Valley is full of boutique wineries.  These are small vineyards, where the crop is lovingly grown and the wine is made according to the crop.  It means that their wines vary from year to year, depending on how the crop turns out.  And it can vary tremendously.

‘You don’t normally associate Hunter Valley with cabernet sauvignon,’ we were told at McLeish Estate.  ‘But we had perfect conditions in 2009 that we made some.’  We tried it, loved it, bought a bottle.  $22, what we'd expect to pay for a good wine in the UK. 

By making their wines according to crop, boutique wineries offer something unique.  Not the reliable but same-old of the ‘industrial’ vineyards, which have no choice but to keep on churning out the same wine year after year in order to satisfy the supermarkets, or go bust.  Boutique wineries invite you to compare the 2010 semillon with the 2011 (‘we picked our crop early that year, because of the weather – if we’d left it later, the wine would have been too sweet’).  They explain how their blends differ from year to year (we called this the quartet because it has four varieties – it’s unique).   They tell of how they spend hours swirling and spitting until they have the blend just right.  More of this, less of that, different from last year and the year before.

When you go into a boutique winery, you are asked what sort of wine you like.  ‘Ah, then try this,’ they say.  ‘See what you think and I’ll tell you what it is.’  Or, ‘You should have this one with pasta, this one goes beautifully with lamb.  Can you taste the smokey bacon in this one? To me it’s like English breakfast.’

Actually, I got sausages with that one.  So he took my glass, gave it a good sniff and said, ‘Ah, yes, I see what you mean.’

Kevin Sobels wines - only available at the cellar door

Some boutique wineries are so small they only do cellar door sales – you can’t even buy them at the local bottle shop.  It was at one of these, Kevin Sobels wines, that we tried a rather lovely 2012 semillon (the one that was picked early) and bought it.  We drank it on it’s own that night.  Having been in the car all day, it wasn’t quite as cool as we’d like, but it was still excellent  (the sign of a good white, by the way, is that it still tastes good when it’s warm).  And the thing about this Semillon, is that there was only so much of it made and those exact conditions may never happen again, so we were drinking something rather special.  (It cost $22, which is what we’d expect to pay for a good bottle back home).

Hunter Valley

‘Ah, I see he’s spraying over there.’

This was said of the winery on the hill opposite Peterson’s (where they hardly ever make a cabernet sauvignon, but when they do its damn good).  And he said it because it was a humid day, there were still about 10 days before picking and the spray was to prevent the mould that loves humid conditions.  ‘He picks earlier than us,’ we were told.  ‘Because he gets the morning sun.’ 

It’s not just the picking time, but the end result that is affected by where grapes are grown.  You can get a different flavour from two different areas in the same vineyards.  And this is what wine-makers love – they check conditions, they know their grapes and then they craft the best wine they can from them.  And each year is a new challenge.

And that bottle of Semillon was beautifully crafted.

Sunrise/Sunset – can you tell the difference?

I can’t.

I mean, I do know the difference – the sun goes down when it sets, up when it rises.  It rises in the East and sets in the West.  But, when you take photos, unless you know the order in which they’re taken, it could be either.  Unless there are any experts out there who can tell the difference?

Sunrise or sunset - can you tell the difference?

We arrived in Australia on the West side.  We stayed just outside of Perth and were treated to a beautiful sunset (see previous blog).  So, when we arrived on the East side, in PortDouglas, just north of Cairns, I went on the internet (when it was up – it was down when we arrived, due to the previous day’s stormy weather).  Sun rose at 6.06 am, the weather was forecast to be clear (and 30°C, but I won’t go into that)  so I decided we’d get up at 5.45.

Eddie has an app on his phone, which tells you time wherever you are in the world.  So, it was set to Port Douglas time.  This might not seem an issue, but we’ve been caught out while travelling across Australia – they keep changing their minds about what time it is and we’ve been moving our watches back and forward like yo-yos.

I am not an early riser, but thought it would be worth it, to see my first ever sunrise.  So, having spent a night of dreams about turning up at the beach at 8.15am to find the sun high in the sky, I managed to do the closest I’ve ever done to leaping out of bed when the alarm on Eddie’s phone went off.  I even managed to get washed and dressed without going ‘bleurgghh’.  Then I put my watch on.

I put it on because I wanted to set my watch by the sunrise.  Because that’s something else I’ve never done before.  I reckoned I had about ten minutes before sun-up.

Wrong.

With a few blinks and a bit of head scratching, I worked out that Eddie’s blessed app was an hour out.  It had woken us up at 4.45am instead of 5.45am.  And I’d been blissfully fast asleep, dreaming of sunrises.

But it was still worth it.  When we left an hour later for our fifty metre walk to the beach, it was already light, with that lovely soft, cool (relatively) light of first thing in the morning.  There was a group of people exercising on Four Mile Beach, one or two early morning joggers, one other person facing the horizon with a camera – and that was all the company we had on this four mile stretch of beach.

Now, here's a question.  Are the above pics in the right order?  And another question - where's the wine?

The pedantic (I mean experts) among you might have spotted that the first picture should have come last.  If you look between the palm trees (sorry, couldn't help taking a pic of them, we don't get many back home) you'll see the sun is higher - because it's going up that is.

And as for the wine - this was the great barrier reef but there's no wine there! part of our trip.  The reef was amazing.  The wine came from a bottle shop.  Two bottles of very nice sav blanc, one from Australia and one from - er - New Zealand.

   

After a day’s wine tasting, what you need is – a beer!

How do you choose which winery to visit?

Margaret River boasts 200 wineries, Barossa and McLaren Vale have dozens, Coonawarra has 25 along a short stretch of road.   We can manage 5 wineries in a day, fewer if we’re visiting on passing.  So, how do we choose?

In Margaret River, we went to Stella Bella, because my mum’s name is Stella.  It turned out to be a lovely boutique winery with an interesting Semillon Sauvignon Blanc called Suckfizzle.  We also went on recommendations, chose wineries that fitted into a convenient route that took in scenic drives and even the odd cave (see previous post).  As I’ve mentioned, cellar managers are very generous about recommending other wineries.

When we were passing through McLaren Vale, we stopped at the information centre, picked up a winery map and spotted our first port of call immediately – Fox Creek wines.  That’s because, a few months ago, we went to a live Bid for Wine for wine auction in London.  It was a lavish affair with champagne, delicious canapés and a chance to taste some of the wines on offer.  We bought a case of Fox and Hounds 2003 and have been enjoying drinking it since.  So, Fox Creek was a must.

Tasting the Fox Creek Wines

It turned out to be a typical boutique winery, where we had a lovely long chat with cellar manager Amelia, who gave us advice about scenic routes that took us to some recommended wineries.  She also advised us to stop by the Blue Lake as we passed Mount Gambier on the way to the Great Ocean Road.

And she gave us a taste of their reserve 2010 cabernet sauvignon ($40), which won the South Australian wine of the year.  And deservedly so, it was delicious.  She took a photo of the two of us (many cellar managers did this) and recommended our next winery, Olivers, because they were mentioned in an article about the 20 wines that defined Australia.  Their Shiraz was described in said article as ‘a big generous shiraz’.  I know because their cellar manager showed me the article and said they were extremely pleased about it.

We were also advised to take the route through Coonawarra on our way to Beachport (our stop before the Great Ocean Road).  Which we did.  And visited two wineries in passing, by sticking a pin in the map!  I have to admit that, without delving into my notes (which could be anywhere) I can't for the life of me remember what they were called.  

Perhaps it's time for that beer. 

The Blue Lake at Mt Gambier - it's in a volcano and it really is blue!